Countdown to romance
by launcherofzeroship
Summary: Set in a semi AU where humans would get a stopwatch-like tattoo on their wrists counting down to their destined encounter. Based on a Sherlock fanfic on tumblr (link coming soon)


Since about the time he could count, Gaius has always wondered about the numbers on his wrist. It displayed five sets of numbers such as years, and down to the smallest calculation of seconds. Like a prison tattoo – though he didn't know better, yet – the numbers stayed with him always. Once, he tried to ask his mother – a dear person long deceased – about it, her reply was ambiguous as always. "Why, dear…it tells you the time."

"The time I have until the next serving of sweets?" he replied excitedly. Some things never change; sweets never fail to perk up his mood. "Well, not quite…it is for something even more precious." In his defense, things couldn't possibly get better than a piping hot slice of apple pie – or other variations thereof. Well, maybe except from a muffin with gold leafs on top. Or a cake studded with rainbow jewels. Edible rainbow jewels. Such were the food of the lords, fit to be guarded in a dungeon by warriors and risens alike. Watching Gaius lost in his own thoughts of royal confectionaries, his mother just smiled at him. She then crouched down, and took his wrist on her hand, glancing at the numbers. "One day you will see."

The number on her wrist, Gaius could see, were all down to zeroes. Written in red. Time has run out, but he didn't know what the thing was timing.

Later, as he managed his way through heist requests and short stints at the joints and even more sugary diversions to fill up his days, he started to hear more about it. A wistful sigh made by the serving lady at the local alehouse while looking at her wrist, followed by a story told between the sobs. The tale of an especially ancient inmate about his misadventures – and more importantly, the grand pinnacle – in love, told in a sudden fit of boredom, as rite of passage for the particular prison house. Though both stories were bordering on the unbearable, Gaius put on his most serious look, steeled himself from munching on his next sweets provisions, and listen. The numbers, they both agreed, was counting down on to the day when he would meet his most important person – his soul mate.

The words made him cringe. He has got nothing against people, but the fact that he even had a built in timer just to serve for that purpose was unsavory, to say at the very least. It meant that he would end up meeting someone he would be doomed to remain with for the rest of his life. How could he stay put with someone for such a long time?

The time on his wrist, by his twentieth day at the prison, at the approximate age of seventeen, still read for over 34 years.

—

Henry spent most of his time thinking about how his soul mate would be.

_Do they like ravens, or do they prefer other kind of birds? What kind of bloody death would they dream about? Would they mind if he hexes them to never look at any other person ever again? Would they get along?_

The last question, he knew, was superfluous; they would love him, just as he has always loved them. _That is how things work, right?_ His soul mate would never abandon him, kill his friend, nor send him somewhere far away. Nevertheless, the question stayed, and was nagging at the back of his mind every day.

He fancied himself as someone with a pure heart, you could say. He liked the idea of having someone to talk and do stuffs with. Humans disappointed him, but he crossed his fingers in hope of someone a teensy bit different.

He hasn't even _met_ his soul mate yet, and he was already in love.

The time on his wrist read 22 years on his first day in the wizard school. He didn't mind waiting, but he still wondered why he should one of the few who had to wait for so long. He continually told himself it would be worth it, eventually. The hope of their encounter kept himself going. "Don't die on me, okay? I would resurrect you even if you didn't want me to!"

—

_Blood._

It was the only word present in Henry's mind. Bloody accurate in so many senses. Burning desert sun, a steel sword embedded on his stomach, blood flowing and staining the sands red, burning throat as he inhaled dust upon letting out a strangled cry.

_Sorry, it seems like I am going first._

On top of the pain in his stomach (stomach ache works well too), there was also a hard throbbing in his right wrist. He could see from behind his eyelids that the number of days until their designated meeting went on an overdrive, counting down.

_Nyahaha, maybe they are dead too!_ The burning sun became faded with white, and Henry was lost to the world, writhing unconsciously in the battle field.

—

Gaius' eyes snapped open and he let out a cry of surprise, gripping his arm and working his way through the unexpected surge of pain. _That…didn't feel right. _

He did a second take upon his arm, and found nothing wrong until his eyes settled over the spot on his right wrist. The numbers read zero in dark red, and Gaius' expression fell.

—

Henry's eyes flew back open, and he hacked a cough, savoring the numbing pain as he tried to breathe.

_Fractured skull from the impact after the fall_, his mind supplied. _You have also got some internal bleeding. Don't forget about the stab wound! Ooh, were you thinking about your soul mate? Good luck and have a nice day!_

"Thanks, brain!" the dark mage replied, albeit it lacked the usual smile and cheerful tone. "…I am not dead yet."

—

Gaius watched as the numbers on his wrist started reappearing. They jumped up from zero, and he felt a sudden sensation on his stomach. They started over. "Make up your damn mind!" he shouted, watching as it climbed to over 40 and dropped again. Every time it hit zero, he would feel a pain upon his chest, rubbing his wrist furiously in hope of something better. _Anything_.

The number rose once more, and stopped at 72 days.

If Gaius felt a warm swell of relief, he would dismiss it shortly after.

—

The promised day has arrived. Gaius could feel it ever since he woke up, a tingling sensation all over his body. He even tried to be a bit more presentable for a change, Cordelia approved. For his part, Gaius has entertained some thoughts about his "destined person," more times than he would care to admit. Personally, he was fine with just about any type of person. Not that he would have many choices in the first place, being the resident thief, and whatnot. After all, when life gives you freebies with no strings attached, you might just want to check it out.

The source of all his teenage delusions then manifested himself in the form of Plegian dark mage. A very male Plegian dark mage that Chrom recruited while the former was busy being surrounded by dozens of crows. _Magnificent._ Just like Gaius, upon arrival, Henry too seemed to give an extra interest to each and everyone's wrists currently present in the immediate vicinity. It was a pity that most of the residents wore gloves and long sleeves on a regular basis. Henry on the other hand, decided that his master plan – which mainly consisted of forcing everybody to show him their wrists, with or without a couple of hexes – would have to wait. It wouldn't do to give a bad impression to his new employer, future colleagues, and (possible) soul mate.

After that, it was all down to the usual routine. A rousing speech from Chrom, reports regarding the progress of the campaign, courtesy of the tactician, and topped off with a full introduction of the roster. Ever since he joined after the mishap with Emmeryn, Gaius has always felt that the Shepherds were one person short of the official head count. _That person seemed to be missing today too._ Meanwhile, Henry, the supposed person of interest today, was happily chatting with a nearby….potted cacti, oblivious to his surroundings. _Crivens, what did I get myself in to?_

"Be back in a few minutes, mate, I ought to check something up," he said to no one in particular before he dragged Henry away to the deserted canteen. Gaius gave out a sigh as soon as the door was shut, and strode to Henry, looming over him.

"Does it read zero?" Gaius asked. "Plain, old zero?"

A long silence graced the whole room and Henry's smile froze. Gaius rolled his eyes – a move he learned from the army's several experts – took Henry's arm, and shove up the sleeve. "You got involved in a brigand attack about two and a half months ago," Gaius stated.

"Yep! A bloody good one at that," Henry replied cheerfully, without a care of the world, especially Gaius' darkening mood. "You were stabbed. Nearly died, until a damn good healer came marching down to patch you up," he added.

"How do you know? Man, that was such a fun battle…"

Gaius released his arm roughly and took off his right glove, stretching it out for Henry to see. The dark mage scanned over it, and finally traced his fingers on his wrist. If Henry accidentally saw his prison tattoo, he decided not to comment. "A penny for your thoughts," Gaius mumbled, "if your _soul mate – __or whatever the hell they call it nowadays,_" he added to hide his own embarrassment, the tips of his ears slowly turning pink. " - dies, you can feel it? It shows up red instead of grey, and it hurts."

Henry swallowed and now his smile was even brighter than ever. "Ooh, sounds nice! To be fair the stab wound hurts worse, though," he quipped_. Of course._

"What is your name, again?" Gaius asked.

"Henry, at your service!"

"The name is Gaius, guess we are stuck with each other from now on."

—

_Finally, we meet. _


End file.
